


Wedded

by yespolkadot_kitty



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, a lot of nonsense really, crimson peak smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-15 03:38:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20859617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: You're on your way home from your arranged marriage to Sir Thomas Sharpe, but the pouring rain means your path back is flooded. Only an inn with one spare room stands between you and a very unladylike soaked corset.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [misreall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misreall/gifts).

> I am incapable of one shots.
> 
> I humbly lay this at the feet of @misreall in homage to her absolutely gorgeous CP fic, Perfection.

“Your finest suite of rooms, please.”

The gruff innkeeper looked askance at you and your new husband of a few hours, his brow furrowed. This ramshackle little coaching inn had likely never entertained a baronet before.

You rubbed your thumb absently over the gorgeously engraved band of yellow gold on your ring finger.

_ I’m a lady now. _

The arranged marriage hadn’t shocked you. As very minor nobility, your father had struck the match between you and Sir Thomas Sharpe, using the only thing he had as leverage - land. Sir Thomas wanted the land to mine; your father wanted to secure your future.

Love hadn’t been on the table. That was a pity for your girlish fantasies, but you had a practical head on your shoulders. Many women these days barely had enough to eat; you were in a better boat than a large proportion of England.

“Begging your pardon, m’lord, but we only have one room available. It has a window,” he added brightly.

Your husband - husband! - glanced over at you. His eyes, the shade of the sea during a roaring storm, searched yours. In the candlelight of the inn’s tap room, his dark hair was black as a raven’s wing, the soft room’s glow catching on the planes and angles of his starkly handsome face.

“This is your wedding night,” he said softly. “If you wish, we will stay.”

You glanced out of the inn’s windows at the rain lashing the panes none too quietly. You didn’t see that you had much of a choice, although it was kind of Sir Thomas to give you the illusion of one. The narrow path you needed to take to your new home had been flooded by the constant rain; the horses couldn’t pass it until the morning.

“Let’s stay,” you decided with a nod.

“Hot water at once, if you would,” Thomas told the innkeeper, pressing some coins into his palm. “And extra blankets for my new wife.”

The innkeeper inclined his head in what might have been a parody of a bow. You didn’t care. The room had a warm bed and you would soon have a bath to recline in. What else mattered on a stormy, rainy night like this?

Thomas tucked your hand in the crook of his elbow and led you upstairs. 

As it turned out, you found the appointed room better than you’d expected for an inn in a small hamlet like this. An oriental screen, faded but exquisitely painted, separated the large bed from a large tin bath; again well used but scrupulously clean. 

An oil lamp had been lit on the scruffy chest of drawers by the window, casting an old-gold glow around the room. The oriental screen cast a shadow over the bed, mirroring the shadow in your mind about spending the night with your new husband. 

Did he want to exercise his marital rights?

Did you want him to?

“Perhaps, a bath?” Thomas asked, his soft baritone suddenly loud in the room. The thick floorboards muffled the noise from the taproom downstairs and you felt very alone with him, his tall frame dominating the room.

Just as you opened your mouth to reply, a pounding sounded on the door.

Thomas opened it, and two serving boys walked in slowly, a large pail of steaming water between them. You stepped aside as they carefully upended it into the tin bath and then took their leave, after Thomas gave them each a coin for their trouble.

He gestured to the screen. “You first. Would you prefer it if I took my leave?”

You drew your lip between your teeth, nervous. You were  _ married. _ But he’d done no more than kiss you at the chapel, just a butterfly wings brush of his poet’s mouth over your own closed lips.

Sir Thomas Sharpe looked like he was made for sin, but he’d behaved impeccably.

Perhaps he didn’t want you … that way.

Perhaps yours was to be a usual  _ ton _ marriage, where husband and wife did as they pleased in private and appeared together at balls and luncheons for society’s sake.

Your belly clenched in distress at the thought. But your father had wanted this match. So you had made it. And you would make the best of it. Even if transpired that Sir Thomas had no desire for you in his bed.

Even if  _ you _ desired him in yours. Braced over you, his body bowing into yours, gifting you the pleasure you’d never known but desperately wanted to feel. The pleasure you knew women whispered about at balls behind the walls of their fluttering fans.

Even if just the once.

“Thank you, no need,” you murmured instead of voicing your concerns.

You stepped behind the screen and began to undress. Once you got to the laces in your corset, however, things became a little tricky.

You heard Thomas moving around in the bed area, and pressed an eye to one of the folds in the oriental screen. He shrugged off his damp coat, hanging it on a peg on the door of the large room. Beneath he wore a velvet waistcoat, his white shirtsleeves billowing around his elbows and wrists.

Your mouth watered as he began to unbutton the thick velvet brocade of the waistcoat. Each button slipped through its eyelet and finally the garment was laid aside on the bed linen. 

He started on his crisp white shirt and you turned away, feeling ashamed of the desire pooling between your legs.

In vain you struggled to reach your own corset laces. It was useless, and your lungs constricted from the effort.

You bit off a  _ very _ unladylike word, and Thomas knocked courteously on the screen as if it were a door. “Are you well?”

You took a deep breath. Well, you couldn’t put off him seeing your body forever. Might as well be now.

“I can’t get my corset off. Could you help?”

Thomas rounded the screen, his face serious as he gazed down at you. The snapping oil lamp reflected in his eyes. “Turn around, darling.”

His voice had roughened, deepened an octave. The endearment in the beautiful notes of his vocal cords made you press your thighs together in anticipation. You turned slowly to face a big mirror hung on the wall opposite the bath.

Your gaze was drawn to Thomas’ face in the mirror, his eyes dipped to your back. He cupped his hands over your shoulders and slid his palms down your arms, acquainting you with his touch, before he started on the laces of your corset.

At the first gasp of freedom, you shivered with relief at the release of your ribcage. Corsets might give you an enviable waist, but they were vile instruments of torture. 

When he reached the last lace, he dropped his head to your shoulder, kissing the curve where your neck met your shoulder. The skin there was sensitive, and you instinctively sucked in a breath when he moved his lips to your neck.

You watched the reflection of your bodies in the mirror as Thomas gently laved your earlobe and then the pulse point hammering under your jawline.

“Nervous?” he murmured. 

You’d both had a long day and the beginning of whiskers showed in a five o’clock shadow under his pale skin. The light scrape of them aroused you as much as his kisses.

“This is all new,” you heard yourself say in reply.

His arms slipped around your waist, pressing your back to his front. “Are you afraid, little one?”

You swallowed. “Of you? No.”

“Good. You never need to fear me.” He stroked a curl of hair back behind your ear. “Tell me.”

I’m afraid that this will be a marriage on paper only.”

He smiled against your neck; you felt the curve of his lips on your skin. 

He pressed his hips into you lightly, but enough to feel  _ that _ part of him swelling against your backside.

“Does that feel like a marriage in name only to you, darling?”

_ Darling. _ You could get used to that endearment in his made-for-sin voice.

You turned back to face him, sliding your hands up the wall of his chest. The crisp linen of his white shirt felt soft with his body warmth under your palms. 

The lamplight cast shadows on his breathtakingly handsome visage. His raven’s wing curls framed his face, a few disobedient strands curling under his ear to kiss the line of his jaw. Oh, but you could  _ not _ countenance that he was yours and yours alone. 

Your heart fluttered as you brushed your lips over his.

“Show me how our marriage will be,” you whispered, and let the unlaced corset fall to your feet.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fluffy smut.

Thomas’ eyes widened for a fraction of a second, before his arms came around you, pulling you into him. “Delectable,” he murmured in a low tone, a rough edge to his normally smooth voice. His hands slid down your back in a soothing caress, before coming around to cup your breasts, weighing them in his palms before thumbing the nipples gently, the caress sending sparks of need flying to your core.

“Thomas…”

“Where are my manners. After that journey, you need a warm bath.”

He carefully undressed you, his touch almost reverent as he bared you to his gaze, petticoat and stockings rolled down your body, shoes taken off one at a time as you leant on his broad shoulders. When he was done, and you stood naked to his gaze, he scooped you up in his arms. You gasped as he lowered you into the pleasantly hot water, your nerves waking up and sighing at the heat that enveloped you.

“This feels  _ good,” _ you groaned.

Thomas closed his eyes for a moment. “This is torture.”

You weren’t entirely sure what he meant, but you guessed it had something to do with the bulge in his trousers, the bed, and your nakedness.

Well, in for a penny…

“The tub is quite large,” you began. “Join me. You are surely in need of a soak yourself.”

“I am in need of  _ something, _ he muttered, but he stripped all the same. You watched, entranced, as he divested himself of his linen shirt - no undershirt,  _ quite _ improper - his trousers and boots, and finally, his underwear. At last he stood naked before you, all lean muscle and legs that went on forever and  _ that _ part of him standing proud and ready.

You swallowed, a bit nervous.

He sent you a kind, reassuring smile as he joined you in the tub, the water lapping a little at the sides as he settled in, his legs bracketing yours.

“Better?” you asked.

“The water is lovely. As are you, darling.” Thomas slid a hand up your calf, his fingers warm. The glow from the oil lamp flickered across his angular, starkly handsome features. The steam from the water curled a few wayward strands of his raven’s wing hair.

_ He’s mine. _

The thought chased through your mind as you became bold, leaning towards him, tilting your face for a kiss.

Thomas obliged, sinking in deep, his tongue dancing with yours, and you surrendered to it.

With a growl low in his throat, he grasped your waist firmly, bringing you to sit astride him. The evidence of his desire for you pressed urgently against your lower belly as he thrust a hand into your hair, stroking gently, while keeping you anchored with an arm around your torso.

The water lapped around your bodies while he ravished your mouth. You took your own liberties, touching him in small ways, his shoulders, the nape of his neck, the plane of his chest.

Thomas broke the kiss and met your gaze, holding it for a molten second.

“Touch me,” he murmured, taking your hand and placing it where he wanted it most.

Tentatively, you wrapped your fingers around his girth, pleased beyond measure when his cock jerked in your palm.

“What you do to me,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly on the words, as if even speaking while you stoked him was too much effort. He covered your hand with his own larger one, showing you the rhythm he liked. His breathy pants in the otherwise silent room were addictive to your ears.

He felt like steel wrapped in velvet under your fingers. The muscles in his neck stood out in stark relief when he leaned back against the side of the tub, eyes closed as you pleasured him. Learning his body was new to you, but you were a fast study, and soon he dropped his hand, and instead concentrated his attention on learning you, too.

You gasped as his talented fingers slid over the apex of your body. He held you in place as he parted you for his exploration, finding your entrance and then teasing the little bud above it until your body rocked above his. Every nerve ending seemed to collect  _ there _ , knotty and hot and needy, until the sensations overwhelmed you and you entire body convulsed with white hot pleasure, searing through your limbs. You shuddered with bliss, gripping Thomas’ shoulder.

When you floated back down, he was smiling at you, his eyes soft, his hair a wild black tousle around his poet’s face with its slashing cheekbones and expressive mouth.

“I didn’t know it could be like that,” you whispered.

He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “It will get better. Let’s wash you, darling, and get you something to eat.”

You glanced pointedly down at his erection. “You, ah….”

“I can wait.”

You hesitated, thinking of the bliss he’d brought you. He was surely uncomfortable. “Now.”

With a raised eyebrow, and a murmured "as the lady commands," he took your hand and settled it back on his length. Together you stroked, up and down at the pace he liked, thrilling at the feel of him held tight in your palm. When he bit off your name like a prayer and his whole body tensed, you drank in the expression on his face that was half pain, half pleasure, as he spilled over your joined hands.

You washed each other in the low light blushing from the oil lamp. As Thomas dried you carefully with one of the two large towels the inn had provided. Rough but dry, they did a perfectly adequate job.

A pounding knock sounded on the door as Thomas wrapped his tall body in a towel, too.

He bid you stand behind the oriental screen as he answered it.

“Begging your pardon, m’lord.” A serving girl stood in the doorway with a large tray. “Roasted meat, bread and honey.”

“On the bed, if you would.” Thomas pressed a coin into her palm as she left.

He gestured to the wide bed. The smell of roasting fowl drifted to you, and you pressed a hand to your stomach, ravenous.

“Dinner, perhaps? And then..”

You gazed at the food and then at your new husband. Behind him, beyond the window, the moon rose heavy and full, hung in a sky full of pinprick stars. It was a beautiful night to feed each other and then learn how to love, and be loved, in your new marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It appears that handjobs in a bath are my thing! Who knew. If you want another one, see my Conrad fic Convalesence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just plain smut, with a pinch of sweetness.

Thomas fed you the choicest cuts of meat with his fingers, and you nipped at his digits playfully. Here in these four walls, you weren’t nobility. You weren’t a woman he’d agreed to marry for reasons other than love. Here, in this coaching in, in the middle of nowhere, with only an oil lamp and a still-warm bathtub for company, you were simply newlyweds.

He dipped a crust of the bread in the pot of honey and swept it across your lips, then licked the honey off.

“Delectable.”

You looked away shyly. “You think so?” 

“I know so.”

His praise in that low, seductive baritone made your cheeks flush with pleasure. “It’s just..”

“What, sweeting?”

The endearment made your heart soar. “You’re not what I expected.”

Thomas let his finger trail down your neck and further to your breast, playing with the nipple until it puckered. “Nor are you.”

You took the bread from his hand and fed the remainder to him. He licked the crumbs from your fingers like a cat licking a bowl of cream, then sucked your thumb into the warmth of his mouth. Heat from the caress of his tongue spiralled down your body, settling between your legs.

“Are you afraid?” he asked softly.

“Of you?”

He nodded, a lock of his raven’s wing hair falling into his eyes.

You reached up to brush it away. “Not anymore. In the carriage, when I said I was cold, you gave me your coat. Not every Baronet would do that for his wife.”

He smiled slightly.

“I saw that you were kind, and I was happy. In times like these, a kind husband is the most I could wish for. But you’re so much more. Handsome as a knight of old, a voice like a bard’s.” You leaned into him, kissing his poet’s mouth, tasting honey and the richness of the roasted beef. “And mine.”

“As you are mine,” he growled, pushing you back on the bed. You went willingly. “And I plan to claim you thoroughly tonight.”

A shiver bolted through you as he laid you back against the plump pillows. His hands spread your legs and he kissed his way down your stomach. Panic fluttered in your belly.

“Thomas, you can’t-”

He did.

He parted you to his gaze, his tongue laving you gently at first, then more firmly as he learned what you liked, how to make you moan.

You bit your lip at first, your hands curled in the bedsheets.

“Let me hear you, darling,” he whispered against your clit.

His admiring tone gave you confidence and you groaned his name as he traced patterns on the clenched bud of your pleasure. Sensations rocked your body and you shamelessly arched into his talented mouth, pressing yourself  _ there _ until he flicked his tongue just right and the orgasm slammed into you, drawing sob after sob from your lips.

He licked you through the orgasm until your body trembled from the force of it, and then he looked up, smiling wickedly, his chin shiny from his effect on your person.

You gasped as he moved up your body and focused his attention on your breasts. The weight of his leanly muscled body was heavy and welcome as he tended to your nipples, his warm tongue laving them. You pressed up into his mouth.

His erection lay insistently against your thigh, and you instinctively shifted so the head of him pressed  _ right _ where you needed him, resting against your still-sensitive nether lips. 

He growled your name and pressed gently. You parted your legs, sliding your calves over his, as he thrust against you, just the tip of him entering you. It was everything, and yet hardly enough.

“Thomas….”

“I fear this will be unpleasant,” he whispered against your mouth. “But just the once.”

“Do it.”

He braced himself on one arm, and used his free hand to tweak that super sensitive bud at the apex of your body. A second orgasm skirted your consciousness, and he plied your flesh until it peaked, wave after wave of bliss flooding your limbs -

And then pain.

You bit your lip as Thomas seated himself fully inside you.

“I’m sorry, darling.”

“It’s….” Now that the initial pain had gone - and your mother had prepared you for such a feeling - the sensation of  _ fullness _ was… rather exquisite.

“Are you well?” he asked, brushing hair back from your forehead with tenderness.

_ This man. _ You looked up into his bottomless eyes, the colour of the sea after a storm, and smiled. “I’m perfect.”

He smiled back, and started to move, slowly. You clenched your muscles around him experimentally, and he bit a curse off, lifting one of your legs to deepen the angle of his thrusts. The base of his cock hit a pleasurable place, and you were gasping his name as he set a rhythm that had both of you panting.

“Can’t… wait,” he rasped out, and with another few shuddering thrusts, you felt him spill inside you, before he let out a long breath and collapsed on top of you.

After a moment he went to move, but you wrapped your arms around him. “Don’t.”

“I’m not too heavy?”

“I like it.”

You felt him smile against your neck. “I like  _ you. _ ”

“I had an inkling,” you deadpanned, feeling at ease. Happy.

He laughed out loud, the sound tickly against your ear, and your eyes wandered to the window, where the moon hung waxy and bright in the autumnal sky. It was cold and wet outside, but in this bed, with your husband warm on top of you, his quiet breath in your ear, and his scent surrounding you, there was nothing more you could need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, all who've read and commented here and on Tumblr. You make me grin.


End file.
